Eyeshield OneShots
by Alina-Cantha
Summary: A collection of my Eyeshield 21 oneshot stories. Various pairings.
1. Cowboys and Indians

**Title:** Cowboys and Indians  
**Pairing:** Kid x Hiruma  
**Rating: PG-15…?**  
**Summary:** "Hiruma," he said simply, replacing his hat over his eyes.

_**Disclaimer: **_Eyeshield 21 doesn't belong to me. I just write about it.

_**Disclaimer the second:**_ Hiruma is definitely more of a potty-mouth than I am. So I will use the watered-down version, due to my steadfast avoidance of using the f-word. So he will not be using it – feel free to replace any of his words with your cuss word of choice. Otherwise, enjoy.

* * *

Kid stretched leisurely as he stepped off Doburoku's truck, leaving that stupid bull for coach to handle. He understood all this Western stuff, yeah, but that didn't mean he was going to stick around and lock horns with the damn thing. The rest of Deimon's team swarmed off the truck right behind him, and he heard Hiruma disembark with the sound of a shotgun reloading. Raising his eyebrows a bit, he turned to watch as the other quarterback calmly and quietly stepped forward, grabbing the bull's ear and whispered something, showing quite a bit of fang.

Amazingly, after that, the bull was remarkably well behaved, and got meekly off the truck. Hiruma'd stepped up the threat level then.

"Tetsuma," Kid called, noting the man still sitting in the truck bed. "You can get off now."

Silent as usual, the stony-faced receiver stood and walked stiffly off to stand in front of Kid.

"You're good to go," Kid said finally, trying to keep his eye from quirking. "Go eat some food. And get that seagull off your head." Slowly, Tetsuma's gaze drifted upward to the bird that had apparently gotten comfortable nestled in his hair. Reaching up, he brushed it away as he walked forward towards the barbeque that was getting set up as they spoke. Within seconds, the bird was back, squawking and flapping it's wings in a fuss as it fluttered to a rest.

Sighing, Kid looked over at the huge meal. A victory and a great barbeque in one day? Not good in the long run. He could always wait, have leftovers later. Though with that linebacker of Deimon's around, there might not be much. Oh well, there'd always be food later. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he strolled off towards the horse barn in back – there'd be a nice place to sleep there somewhere, and he'd be undisturbed, at least.

A few minutes later, he was rudely awakened when someone kicked the barn door open with a clattering crash and the sound of something breaking. "Shit," that someone muttered, and Kid frowned, slipping his hat down over his face drowsily. Maybe he'd just go away if he didn't say anything.

"Damn cowboy, you in here somewhere? Your damn coach wants you."

Yup, that was him. With language like that, at least, it wouldn't be anyone else on Deimon. Kid sighed and shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the pile of hay he was using as a make-shift bed.

"Oi! Damn cowboy!" Now he could feel the cool steel of a gun barrel poking him in the ribs.

Moving one of his hands around from behind his head to the front, he lifted his hat lazily off his face, and found it difficult to avoid jumping backwards an all-too-pointed and vicious face with completely inhuman teeth presented itself two inches from his.

"Hiruma," he said simply, replacing his hat over his eyes.

"Let's go! Haul ass!" The sound of gunfire was almost deafening as Hiruma fired a few shotgun shells into the roof, and debris rained down from above, showering them both with wood shards and hay. It wasn't like Kid wasn't used to it though, what with his coach's wild, free-shooting ways.

There was an echoing silence then as the noise died. "Che," Hiruma growled, leaning heavily against the sidewall of the stall Kid was napping in. "Wouldn't last a day on my team. I'd blow your damn brains out."

"That's why I play for Seibu," Kid answered matter-of-factly.

And then the gun moved from Kid's ribs to his nose, practically jammed up one of his nostrils. The tang of gunpowder flowed up to assault his sense of smell, and he sighed. He'd known this day couldn't last - not with the victory at the beach, the ride for them (_and _the bull), and then the huge barbeque.

"It's not working, is it?" he asked quietly, finally pushing his hat back permanently to look at Hiruma with lazy eyes.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that, damn cowboy," Hiruma snarled from his position straddling Kid, still pressing the revolver now in his hand to the other man's face.

"A compliment from your mouth, Hiruma?"

"Whatever you want to call it."

"Get off me," Kid finally grunted. "Your ass's too bony."

"What, don't you like it?" Hiruma purred. Getting up smoothly, supporting himself on one lanky leg, he used the other to press Kid back into the pile of hay, his foot planted firmly in the middle of his chest.

"I'm not getting anywhere this way," Kid commented, his expression unchanged.

"Maybe I don't want you going anywhere." Hiruma's face curved into a softer sort of grin, though his pointed teeth were still glaringly obvious.

"And what would you mean by that?"

"Whatever the hell I want it to mean."

"Simple enough."

Hiruma picked his foot up, turning his back on Kid, tucking his revolver under his belt and resting his shotgun on his shoulder in one motion. It was an easy movement, a natural movement. Which is why he was surprised when he suddenly found himself flying backward and landing unceremoniously on his ass next to Kid.

A splutter of curse words and insults flew from his mouth – nobody screwed with him and got away with it. But he found himself bent in such a way that the revolver just dug into his hip and he was unable to free it from its position under his belt, and his shotgun was gone, having found it's way into Kid's long, slender hands.

He pointed it lazily at Hiruma, only now letting go of his black shirt. It's muzzle didn't waver as Kid yawned, then closed one eye, needlessly sighting along the barrel.

"You've got fast hands, damn cowboy," Hiruma spat, voice full of its usual venom and bile.

"Isn't it a little hot out to be wearing black all the time?" Kid asked instead, changing the subject coolly. "We are in Texas, after all."

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Hiruma asked bluntly, his sharp eyes completely disbelieving, and more than a little interested.

"I could be trying."

Hiruma frowned for a moment, and then lashed out with one foot, slamming it into Kid's hand. The shotgun popped into the air, where Hiruma snatched it, reversed it on Kid, just to prove he could, then tossed it to the side with a clatter of metal.

"It could be working," Hiruma finally answered, that feral grin returning to his face. Hands free of weaponry for the moment, he quickly stripped himself of his tight black shirt, tossing it at Kid's face. "There's one problem solved."

"Hm?" Kid responded, simply letting Hiruma's shirt rest where it had landed, covering his face.

"Not wearing black anymore." He grinned smugly, leaning against the wall of the little stall, arms folded across his bare chest. Though it was evening outside, the day's heat still seemed to rise from the ground, and his skin glittered with small beads of sweat.

Making that observation through half-closed eyes, Kid nodded. "See. You're overheated. You need to learn how to deal with this heat."

"I don't need anyone telling me what the hell I should be doing." Suddenly, he was straddling Kid again, pushing him back into the pile of hay as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on either side of Kid's chest and putting his face inches away as he used one hand to pull the black fabric of shirt up from where he had tossed it. Exposing just the lower half of Kid's face, Hiruma leaned forward, biting Kid's bottom lip lightly for a moment, leaving faint teeth marks on it, before turning the same movement into a real kiss.

His tongue probed lightly into Kid's mouth, brushing gently along his teeth for a moment before Kid answered back, a slight sigh coming from his mouth as he pulled away, then returned, deepening the kiss.

Hiruma smiled again, and lifted his hips momentarily off of Kid's, fumbling with his belt buckle with one hand while slipping the other up Kid's shirt to run his long fingers over Kid's chest. "Let's make it a real roll in the hay, hmm?" he asked lecherously, his lips brushing Kid's as he spoke.

With an easy move, Kid suddenly flipped them both over, ending up on top himself. Hiruma's shirt fell from where it had been resting over Kid's face, revealing a smile flickering through his eyes, and a corner of his mouth quirking up for a moment in a grin. "Let's," he said simply.

Later, they'd found enough energy to at least get half-dressed. But they were too hot and too tired to do much else, and so they just lay on the hay stack beside each other, staring at the ceiling, half-asleep.

Hiruma reached a blind hand over towards Kid, tracing spirals up his chest before snatching the hat off his head. A few hairs on the hat were snitched and placed into a plastic bag, to be labeled later for Cerberus to use in tracking. Then, too lazy at the moment to put the hat back in its rightful place, he simply put it on his own head.

"You're not really the cowboy type," Kid commented, though he, too, was too spent to make a grab at it.

"Didn't think so."

"More of the Indian type. War drums and axes and stuff."

"Sounds more fun."

"Thought you'd say that."


	2. Comfort Sex

**Title: **Comfort Sex

**Pairing: **Crack! Read and find out. I _dare_ you.

**Summary: **"What, are you so desperate for a lay you've gotta corner me in the bathroom?"

**Notes: **A request/challenge. And I can never resist a challenge.

**Disclaimer:** Eyeshield 21 doesn't belong to me. I just write about it.

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"Whaaat? Is Zokugaku an all-boys' school? Hatsujou gasped, peering wide-eyed at the other team. Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he shoved his helmet under his arm while a longhaired girl came up to take his other arm.

"Not exactly," Rui answered, cracking his neck lazily as he turned around to face the other team's representative. "Missed one." He jerked his head towards Megu as she rounded a corner, tapping her shinai impatiently against her shoulder.

"Oi, Habashira. Get your ass over here – act like a captain or something," Megu growled, glaring at both of the men standing there.

"Ohhh," Hatsujou said knowingly, nodding vigorously. "Is she with you?"

Megu raised one eyebrow slowly, and the shinai stopped its constant tapping – a bad sign. "Hell…no," she said slowly – at the exact same time as Rui.

"Do you want anything _else_?" she continued coldly, turning her full attention to Hatsujou and his girlfriend. The quarterback could only gape, his mouth flapping open and shut while the girl on his arm looked up at him worriedly. "Go. Now," Megu commanded, pointing her shinai imperiously towards the other side of the field.

They went.

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After the game, Rui slung his gear bag over his shoulder, a small smile on his reptilian face. The rest of his team had already bailed, roaring off on their bikes to go celebrate their victory – probably by drinking until they were sick. He'd stuck around to help Megu clean up – nobody else did, but that didn't matter. If she got pissed, he'd be the one she took it out on – and that shinai _hurt_.

He slipped into the bathroom to peek at himself in the mirror. He would have denied it if asked, but in a way, at least, he was vain. And he couldn't let his hair get screwed up, after all. Licking his hand, he slicked it back a few times, and then, satisfied, he turned to go.

As his hand reached for the door handle, it swung open as Hatsujou entered with a sigh. "Oh! Rui!" he grunted in surprise, turning to face the wall.

Rui's hand slapped against the tile of the wall as he shot his arm out, blocking Hatsujou's way back out. "I was just on my way out," he told him, sticking his face an inch from the back of the other man's head.

When Hatsujou turned, they were literally nose-to-nose. He jerked backwards, surprised by the wide features and curling tongue. "No! No, not a problem!" he babbled quickly, reaching for the door again.

Then Rui snorted, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you're crying because you lost," he scoffed. "Figured you'd be a little tougher than that."

"'m not crying."

"Liar."

"So?"

"Che," Rui scoffed. "Let me out of here. I don't give a shit anyways."

"Stay?" Hatsujou said quietly, turning his body to block the way.

"Hell no. Get out of the way."

"I don't…" he began with difficulty. "I don't have anyone to talk to," Hatsujou finally said.

"So what?" Rui snarled back. "Go talk to your loser teammates, or that ugly-ass girlfriend of yours. Her face looks like she got hit by a god-damn truck or something."

"We broke up…just now."

There was a pause, before Rui's lip curled up. "So? Get over it, and _get out of the way_."

"No."

"What, are you so desperate for a lay you've gotta corner me in the bathroom?"

"Shit, no," Hatsujou groaned, bracing himself against the door.

"Look, I ain't no damn talk-show host or something, so haul ass out of here and go cry in the corner or whatever else you damn whiners do."

"You think I'm looking for your advice?"

"If you were, I'd say that'd be a pretty damn bad idea."

"Exactly."

"So what? You _are _that desperate for a lay?" Rui growled, taking a step closer and letting his chameleon-like tongue dangle from his mouth, his face inches away from Hatsujou's. "You're not that bad looking, for a guy who looks like a horse." Turning on his heel, he strode back to the mirrors, fixing his hair again, although it didn't really need it. Hatsujou watched his white coat flare as he turned.

"You're not bad either, for a guy who looks like a lizard." Hatsujou's voice echoed around the tiled room. He smirked, crossing his arms.

"Clever," Rui snarled. "Fine." He walked back across the room, firmly planting his hands on either side of Hatsujou's head, all but pinning him in place.

"That wasn't meant to be a pick-up line."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because you suck at them," Rui hissed, flicking his tongue out and dragging it lightly down Hatsujou's cheek.

"Nice to know that you'll still fall for them," Hatsujou muttered.

"So you admit that was your intention in coming crying to me?" As Rui's words slipped into Hatsujou's ear, his tongue shortly followed as their cheeks pressed lightly together.

"Maybe."

"Catching you on the rebound?"

"I guess," Hatsujou mumbled, turning his face to catch Rui's lips with his own. Conversation stopped for a long moment, as the kiss occupied their mouths. Hatsujou yelped when Rui's hand suddenly cupped his ass, pressing them closer to each other, bodies pressed together from shoulders to hips. But then he simply leaned into it. Hell, why not?

The fingers of Rui's other hand began to toy with the hem of Hatsujou's shirt, slowly teasing it upward so his hand could rest splayed against the skin underneath. Hatsujou remained busy, teasing Rui with his tongue and pulling gently at the other man's lips with his own.

He pulled away suddenly when Rui's hand began tugging at his belt buckle though, grimacing.

"What, haven't you ever heard of comfort sex?" Rui grumbled, finally loosening the buckle.

"Well, yeah, but…here?" Hatsujou asked, glancing around. Not exactly the most romantic of places, with the worn tile beneath them, the musty, humid smell of the room, and the door handle pressing into his back.

"What else are bathrooms for?"

Hatsujou chuckled and simply gave in. He countered by doing the same to Rui, deftly unfastening the buttons on Rui's clothing with one hand, the other wrapped up in Rui's hair. For a guy, he really did have the nicest hair, and that was something that Hatsujou could definitely appreciate.

He was almost distracted enough that he didn't notice the door handle suddenly stabbing into his kidney with a vicious amount of force. Yelping, he pulled away from Rui and jumped away from the door, letting it swing open an inch before it hit Rui's foot and stopped.

Rui cursed and jumped back as well, letting the door swing open to its full width as Megu kicked it again. "What the _hell _are you doing in there?" she snarled upon seeing Rui, hair disheveled, pants undone, and a strange sort of grin on his face.

"None of your business, woman," he snarled back, regaining his normal pain-in-the-ass composure.

"I don't think I want it to be," she snapped, striking her shinai impatiently against the ground a few times and giving him a meaningful look. "Just get your ass out here – my bike's in the shop, remember?"

"We wouldn't have this problem if you just fixed your own damn bike instead of making us do it."

"Well, you're not very fast at it either. Doing it myself would be faster, but I like making you work for what you get from me."

"Which isn't much."

"Hurry the hell up. I wanna get out of here."

"Fine, fine!" he shouted, slamming the door. Thwarted by the automatic mechanism at the top of the door, he scowled and turned, hiking his pants back up on his hips and refastening them. "Bitch," he grumbled under his breath.

"Ex-girlfriend?" Hatsujou asked, coming out of the stall where he had taken cover.

Rui snorted. "Hell, no. Haven't we been over this?" He stalked over to the mirror, and glared at his reflection. "And what the hell did you do to my hair?"

"Couldn't help it."

"Che. Yeah. And do up your fly."

Suddenly embarrassed, Hatsujou followed the order and walked over to stand behind Rui. "Umm…" he started lamely.

"If I want you, I'll know where to find you," Rui responded, slicking his hair back again and staring critically at the mirror. "Get the hell out of here."

Hatsujou followed this order as well, shoulders hunched, giving Megu a baleful look as he walked past her – ball-busting bitch. He went home, trying not to think of the events of the day – the loss, what had happened afterwards, the breakup, the bathroom…any of it.

Until the next week, when he got a decidedly obscene call on his cell phone. Blushing furiously, but with a huge grin on his face, he called Rui back.


	3. Peanut Butter and Banana

**Title:** Peanut Butter and Banana  
**Pairing:** Taki x Monta  
**Summary:** And so every day at lunch, he would swagger up to the other boy and slouch into the chair opposite him, taking care to situate himself in a flattering pose. And every day, he would ask the same question – "What'cha eating?"  
**Notes:** A request for someone on my Livejournal. Again.

**Disclaimer:** Eyeshield 21 doesn't belong to me. I just write about it.

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Taki discovered early on that Monta adored bananas – it was a simple constant of team life, one that even he, in his self-centered oblivion, could pick up on. And so every day at lunch, he would swagger up to the other boy and slouch into the chair opposite him, taking care to situate himself in a flattering pose. And every day, he would ask the same question – "What'cha eating?"

The first few days, Monta simply didn't answer, waving his sandwich or chopsticks in Taki's direction. _Look for yourself_. He focused his energy instead on eating, using the time he had to eat as much as possible.

The next few days, he started to warm up a bit, even if Taki was a bit brainless at times. (Okay, a lot of the time.) He muttered a few words in between bites, and they even had what could be called a conversation.

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"What'cha eating?"

"Peanut butter and banana sandwich."

"Peanut butter and banana?"

"Yeah! It's really good," Monta answers, voice muffled by the peanut butter sticking his teeth together. And Taki nods and eats his own lunch, one that Suzuna has inexpertly packed, or at least bought for him at the Son-Son Market. He'll eat almost anything – he's not exactly a picky eater. But whenever he has a banana, he'll offer it to Monta, along with a sparkling grin. And Monta will, of course, accept, and show him that cool trick again – he's the only person Taki has ever heard of that can peel a banana using just his feet.

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The day after that, Monta realized that Taki might not be so bad after all – if nothing else, at least he was persistent. Even if that "A-HAha" thing of his did get a little old after the tenth time you'd heard it in as many minutes.

Their conversations were more involved now – or as much as they could be with Taki. As long as it involved football, the boys could talk forever – and they do. Catching, running, passing, the other team members, Eyeshield 21, the benefits of grass over fake turf, gloves over no gloves. Now you can barely pry the two apart.

Monta has learned by now that he's definitely not as flexible as Taki – he tried that trademark spin and almost killed himself, ending up falling over into Taki's arms, one leg stuck behind his head and his stomach aching with laughter.

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"What'cha eating?"

"Banana parfait."

"What's a parfait?"

"Never mind, Taki."

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A few weeks pass, and Monta found himself missing that all too familiar "A-HAha" whenever Taki wasn't around. A grin always ended up across his face as soon as he hears the sound that could only be Taki making his grand entrance. Eventually, they started to share lunches – Monta's not that bad of a cook, after all, and Suzuna... Well, Suzuna's left much to be desired.

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"What're we eating?"

"Chicken with banana glaze.'

"Banana glaze?" Taki asks, biting into a wing. "Fancy. And not bad." He nods approvingly, licking his lips before giving Monta a thumbs up.

"Of course not. It's my own recipe."

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Again, a few weeks go by. There are few days that go by where Taki didn't eat at least one banana in some shape or form. And when he didn't, he missed that too. To him, bananas are the same as Monta – and so when he's feeling a little lonely, he'll simply make himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

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"What're we eating?"

"Peanut butter and banana."

"Again?" Taki leans forward, sliding his sandwich out of Monta's bag.

"I like them," Monta whines, biting into his and glaring at Taki, sulking.

"Oh, it's okay. I love them!" Taki beams, and Monta's sulk completely dissolves.

"You've got peanut butter on your face."

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When they kiss for the first time, it is in the locker room after one of Hiruma's hellish lunch-time practices. Pulling his uniform jacket on, Monta tossedTaki his sandwich, already having devoured half of his own. "There you go," he said. "Might as well eat while we wait for Hiruma to leave."

Taki nodded, sitting down on the bench next to Monta. They eat in silence, munching away at their peanut butter. "Thanks, Monta," Taki finally said. "Your cooking is probably ten times better than Suzuna's. But don't tell her that." He turned to Monta with a smile and a huge wink.

"No problem."

With a content sigh, Taki leaned back against the lockers behind the bench, closing his eyes. Hiruma could still be heard outside, chewing out Kurita for some sort of offense. And Monta couldn't resist anymore. Turning, he pressed his lips lightly against Taki's cheek, and the other boy's eyes snap open.

"Just for fun," he mumbled lamely, pasting a smile across his face.

"Oh?" Taki asked, raising one eyebrow as a corner of his mouth creased into a smile. Then he leaned forward, brushing his own lips against Monta's. "Then that's just for fun too."

Shortly thereafter, Monta ended up in Taki's lap, straddling his narrow hips and pressing him back against the lockers with his kisses. It is almost like a battle, as first Monta advances, and then Taki pushes Monta back in the other direction, tongue thrusting forward into the other boy's mouth. It went on like this – thrust and parry, kisses that taste of peanut butter and, as they both have come to associate with the other, bananas – until Monta's watch beeps a warning and they both jump, panicked at the sudden noise that breaks the spell.

"We're going to be late!" Monta yelped, grabbing his bag and scrubbing his face off with his sleeve, running out the door. He hoped the hot flush would be gone from his face by the time he reached his classroom.

Taki followed at a much slower pace, bemused and deliberate, for once. After that, most thoughts have vacated his mind – he's not even sure he'll be able to find his classroom now anyways.

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In a strange way, that first kiss is everything that they imagine it would be – passionate and warm, thick with the taste of each other, and peanut butter and banana. And neither of them knew how much they even wanted it until it happened.

center ----------------------------------------- /center

"What're we eating today?"

"Peanut butter and banana."

Taki reaches forward as usual to take his food, although this time, maybe, his hand lingers a little longer as it touches Monta's. A secret smile and a wink with a surprising amount of promise for such a small gesture, and Taki goes about his eating as if nothing has happened.

Monta just flushes and eats his own sandwich – there'll be time for that later.


	4. Head Rush

**Title:** Head Rush  
**Pairing:** Sakuraba x Fainting Girl - that's right.  
**Summary:** Her love and adoration had been completely blind in the beginning, mindless devotion to a cute tall blonde teenager with gorgeous hair and a perfect smile. But now, he thought, at least, that it was beginning to change.  
**Notes:** A request for someone on my Livejournal. Again.

**Disclaimer:** Eyeshield 21 doesn't belong to me. I just write about it.

**Disclaimer the second:** You know canon? This story waved bye-bye to that right after Deimon's game against Oujou. AU!

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Sakuraba strode down the hallway, his bag slung over his shoulder and his arms stretched back over his head. He whistled lightheartedly, one of the tunes off his old CD – he didn't particularly like them, but like all songs like that, they stuck in your head.

"You're in a good mood," Takami commented, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "What's the occasion?" In an unconscious gesture, his hand drifted up to push his glasses back up his nose.

"Well, because we already had practice this morning, I made some afternoon plans," Sakuraba answered, crinkling his nose up as he grinned.

"One of those pretty little fan-girls of yours?" Takami laughed. He walked alongside Sakuraba, leaving the building as well.

"Not exactly."

"A secret?"

"Yeah. A secret."

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He'd seen her before – quite a few times in fact. She and her two friends seemed to follow him around – it was amazing how they always seemed able to find out where he was, or where he was going. If they were just a little older, they would have been the best private detectives in the universe, he was sure. But for now, to his chagrin, they focused on him.

Then she'd won Miracle Ito's silly competition – something for the fans, his agent had said, with that sleazy grin and sparkle that Sakuraba knew always boded ill. The competition had been simple – buy at American Burger, and get a chance to win the ultimate dream date with Haruto Sakuraba.

She'd ended up in the newspaper for ordering 3,000 burgers at one store. And she'd won.

Miracle Ito had been a little less than pleased. "She's sort of chubby," he'd grunted. "Not the kind of girl I'd pick to have hanging around you for a day." Sakuraba had remained silent.

But finally, the day had come, and he showed up at her door that morning for a surprise wake-up call, with that silly American Burger visor on his head, a bouquet of roses in hand, and a full camera crew at his back. And as soon as she'd opened her front door, she'd passed out, frothing at the mouth. Sakuraba had knelt by her side, making sure she was still breathing and waiting for her to come around. Miracle Ito had called an ambulance.

"Good publicity," the agent had muttered to himself after he hung up his cell phone. "So excited to meet him, she couldn't stand it, it's a perfect excuse, and then we can use some other girl."

But Sakuraba had overheard, and he had had enough manipulation. "No, no. She's going to be okay," he assured Miracle Ito, slowly helping her sit up. "Just…excited."

"Che," Miracle Ito scoffed. "We don't have time for this, Sakuraba-chan."

"You'll need time to find a new winner." Sakuraba crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Miracle Ito produced a palm pilot from seemingly out of nowhere and inspected it carefully, tapping at the screen furiously. "Alright," he finally grumbled. "Tomorrow, then. You can do whatever you want – just watch the cameras and keep the sponsor's hat on."

"Yes, sir," Sakuraba deadpanned, just as the ambulance pulled up. Ito had the camera crew film them examining the girl, and then driving away.

"A little cutting and editing, and no one'll ever know," he grumbled. "See you tomorrow, early." And then the agent was gone.

"Are you okay now?" Sakuraba asked quietly, turning back to the winner.

"Y-yeah," she stammered, looking down at her hands for a moment. "Oh, I can't believe it's really you!" she suddenly gushed, wrapping her arms around him, happy tears streaming from her eyes. He chuckled nervously and gently peeled her off him.

She sighed happily then, simply staring at him. "I've never actually seen you up close before. I have all your pictures, and your CD, and all of the magazines you've been in…" She continued rattling off all the Sakuraba merchandise she owned before he finally stopped her.

"Tell you what," he said, at last able to get a word in. "Why don't we just go eat?"

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The rest just seemed to click after that. She was simply amazed that Haruto Sakuraba was better than she'd ever imagined from all the photographs and magazines she owned – he was actually human, and he proved it every time she complimented him – his entire face would flush red as he ducked his head, attempting to wave away her flattery. And she absolutely fascinated Sakuraba – she was willing to just listen to him talk, and he knew that if he asked her, she would keep any secrets, if just because it was for Sakuraba-kun. Not only that, but she had already proved she was the sort of girl that Miracle Ito did not approve of. And so, in her own way, she was the beginning of the end for the pop idol that Sakuraba used to be.

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What really surprised him about all of that was that she was actually okay with it. Her love and adoration had been completely blind in the beginning, mindless devotion to a cute tall blonde teenager with gorgeous hair and a perfect smile. But now, he thought, at least, that it was beginning to change. She still came to see him, even though that blonde hair was all but gone now. She still got excited when she saw him at games or practices, frothing at the mouth even though that perfect smile of his wasn't all over television anymore. All the billboards were taken down. And yet she still liked him.

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It was always a little frustrating whenever Sakuraba went to meet her – she always passed out a few times before she got her excitement under control and her blood pressure returned to normal. It made him embarrassed, really, that someone (anyone, really) would be so ecstatic to see him that they simply passed out. Then she'd told him that it was only a blood pressure condition she had, and it wasn't really anything to worry about. He'd since learned that she also passed out when very sad or angry as well – he had suggested medication, and so far, it seemed to be working – although he could still tell whenever she was happy.

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During the summer break, he met her once after practice – a simple thing, meeting for ice cream and a walk – he knew he would need the walking to keep his muscles from cramping up after practice. They both knew what it really was, although neither really wanted to say it – a first date, although it had been almost five months since they'd actually met.

She was already waiting for him, sitting on a bench, busily working on her own chocolate cone. Grinning, she handed him a strawberry cone. "Sakuraba and American Burger Databook 2005 said your favorite was strawberry," she explained.

"They're still right," he agreed, sitting down next to her and stretching his impossibly long legs out in front of him as he leaned back. After a few contemplative licks at the ice cream, he murmured, "It's a lot easier now that people don't follow me everywhere. No more fangirls, no more commercials."

"I…kind of miss it," she admitted slowly. "But it's your decision," she quickly added. "And you still look pretty cute with short hair." Flushing bright pink, she stared down at the concrete beneath them.

"Thanks. At least I'll always have one fan," he said. Reaching over, he grabbed her hand, and their fingers wove through each other. She turned her head slightly to glance up at him, and giggled.

"You've got ice cream on your nose."

Sakuraba crossed his eyes, trying to see. Unsuccessful, he stuck his tongue out then, trying to touch the tip of his nose and clean it off.

"Let me get it," she finally sighed, pulling a napkin from her pocket and wiping his face off gently. "There." Her fingers drifted slowly away from his face – reluctantly. And they suddenly both knew – it was this moment, with the sun slowly setting, children playing nearby and half-melted ice cream cones.

He leaned forward and kissed her – lightly pursing his sticky lips against her cheek. She squeaked, but didn't pull away. But as soon as their lips actually touched – tasting of chocolate and strawberry – she fainted. He caught her easily, turning to hold her in his lap, and waiting for her to wake up again, laughing to himself.

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After that, nothing changed, really. She still came to every game, and saw him every chance she got. They walked home together, hand in hand, before he dropped her off at her door with his best courtly bow, never failing to make her smile. He could count on her being there, and she could count on him. And it was a strange sort of relationship, but for them, it worked.


End file.
